I Want My Boy Back

Evan moved out Saturday. 

It feels like forever ago already and yet it's so fresh that my feelings are very raw. Everyone says it happens so fast, they grow up so fast, etc. but that's not how I'm feeling. The way I'm feeling is that Evan has been with us always and without him we're not whole. I'm so thankful that I spent his whole childhood with him, that I homeschooled him and made the most of the time but now it is all the more difficult to have him not here because we're so used to having him here. 

So this is what has brought me back to my blog after 6 years: our firstborn moving out and the need to write about it. I don't like to use the h-word, but I hate right now. I am irrationally angry. I'm angry with the church for taking him away and with the Gap Year leaders for making rules about how much we can see or text him. My heart hurts. Like there is a physical pain in my chest where my heart aches. Every day I cry. I cry when I wake up and remember that Evan is gone, I cry at night when I can't give him a hug, when I'm laying in bed, and all throughout the day. Today I went grocery shopping and I cried in the grocery store. I didn't need to find the firmest nectarines, the way Evan likes them; I didn't need to buy more milk and cereal because no one is eating it; I only had to buy two protein chocolate milks and two Arizona iced teas instead of three, because I only have two kids at home. When I got home, no one came poking around eating up all the fruit I had just bought. 

I had been dreading Saturday but trying to make the most of the time we had left. We got to take a family trip to Hawaii in August and spend all that time together. Thursday before he left we drove up to the lake, for old time's sake, and ate mint Oreos. The kids swam together and said some things they hadn't voiced at home about how much they would miss each other. We even drove there and back in the Sequoia with me in the driver's seat, just like it was for so many years. On Friday night Isaac smoked a tri-tip and we went out for ice cream afterwards. Then Evan got to pick a movie and he chose Napoleon Dynamite which we all quoted and laughed our way through. We said goodnight to him for the last time.

Saturday went as well as could be expected, I suppose. Evan was mostly packed and we went to WinCo on the way to Tulare so that he would have food for the week. It was strange to shop as a whole family and I felt irritable as people made suggestions about what food he needed. It wasn't a long shopping trip; he's planning to eat cereal for breakfast, peanut butter and jam sandwiches for lunch, and ramen for dinner. We also got some fruit, carrots, and snacks. Then we drove to Tulare. We saw the house where Evan will live for the next 9 months. Everyone helped to carry his things inside and we were directed upstairs to a very large room with a twin bed in each corner. Evan had his choice of beds and chose one with a tall, wooden headboard by the window. I helped him make the bed with the new sheets, blanket, and quilt that we bought. He didn't need my help to make the bed but I wanted to do something to feel like he was set up well. We didn't linger. Evan didn't take much so besides putting his cold food items in the fridge downstairs there wasn't much else for us to do besides say goodbye. I couldn't actually say the words goodbye, I just hugged my boy and tried to hold back the sobs. Then we had to drive away and leave him there. 

We saw Evan the next day at church but it already felt like so long that he'd been away. He was at the front of the church when we spotted him talking with friends. He came back and sat with us and I felt we were whole again, if just for that hour. Later that afternoon we had the Gap Year family BBQ at Mom and Dad's house. It was exhausting and overwhelming. Too many people asked me how I was doing and I got tired of answering honestly. I spent some time hiding in Sarah's old room, just to take a break from it all. Afterwards Evan stayed for family dinner and I felt myself relax a little for the first time. This felt normal. It was so good to spend time with Evan and hear his stories. He is doing so well and handling everything without issue. Afterwards I was happy we had time in the car, just the five of us, as we drove him to the Gap Year boy's house. I gave him a hug goodnight and we were on our way home, me crying again, of course.

Here's the thing: Evan is so pleasant to have around. He's easy-going and gets along with everyone. The other four of us will get irritated with one another, but it is extremely rare that anyone is not getting along with Evan or that someone is bothering him. He was usually the first kid up in the mornings and so I would get some quiet time with just him as I drank my tea and read with him close by on the couch. I miss that so much. Evan enjoyed spending time with friends, but was generally content to just be at home. He didn't get a summer job, knowing he wouldn't be working once Gap Year started, so for the past few months he's had endless free time and I enjoyed his presence. It is so hard to go from that to this new reality so abruptly. 

I've tried to avoid texting too much. Today I haven't texted him at all yet and it's 4pm as I write this. I don't want to bother him with my texts. He hasn't initiated any texting so I feel like he's forgotten us. Whatever the reason, it's hard to suddenly not be communicating very often. My mom told me at the grocery store this morning that Evan hasn't forgotten us and that he loves us and always will. She and Dad had lunch with Evan Friday while I was subbing in Micah's CC class and she said that Evan was talking about how some kids look forward to moving out and don't get along with their parents, "But," he said, "I love my parents." That was such a comfort to hear, but it did make me cry, standing in the cracker aisle. 

I don't want this to be reality. Realizing that it is reality is too painful right now; I have to take it in small chunks. If I knew for sure when the next time we'll see Evan will be it would be easier, but I don't know. I know we will catch a glimpse of him in church Sunday, but that feels forever away and I don't know if he'll come with us to Sunday dinner or not. It's hard not to know. Something concrete would give me something to look forward to. It is better and worse that he is so close and feels so far away.  

So that's it. Since I last blogged six years ago so much has happened, so many good and bad, great and terrible things have happened, but this is what brought me back. Time will help, but knowing that doesn't help right now. Maybe writing about it will. 

I want my boy back.